BY F. E. FULLER.
But the tempest-blown robes of the sea,
So to us who look forth from the shores of today
Come brief glimpses of life-times to be.
Though the lips of the ages be dumb and the eyes
Of the centuries blinded with tears,
Yet the hopes we now cherish forever shall rise -
Distant beacons to shine through the years.
And we linger today in this mid-arch of time,
And through infinite vistas behold
A light on the face of that future, sublime
As some sea-morning's splendor of gold;
And we walk forth to meet it - ah! mother, again
Ere we go hear our reverent vow -
Whatever befall, we must think of thee then
With the same love we bear to thee now!
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